


Lethe

by emptysodapopcan



Category: Yogscast
Genre: M/M, Really Horrible Torture Porn, horrible as it Haha Um horrible, not horrible as in poor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2013-02-12
Packaged: 2017-11-29 02:57:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/681925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emptysodapopcan/pseuds/emptysodapopcan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first thing you forget is how to count the passage of time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lethe

**Author's Note:**

> ok fucking. this is the first yogfic i wrote which flipped turned my life upside down it probably needs editing but, as they say, "Yolo"

The first thing you forget is how to count the passage of time. You were so good at it for such a long time, even after he took away every clock and every sign of natural light. Your internal clock and his fairly regular schedule stayed true for over a month, but then you lost focus, just for _one moment_ and now--  
  
Now you don't know if it's been a month, several months, a year, a fucking _decade._ You're not even sure you know what a day feels like any more. Even the conscious moments drift by at indefinite lengths. How long has he been hovering over you? A minute, probably,  maybe even less, but it _feels_ like it's been an hour. To be fair, that might have more to do with the scalpel he's reaching for and the sickening anticipation rising in your stomach, but that thought doesn't come until later because now he's slicing you up and your cries betray you and you can't really think about anything except that.  
  
Reality settles back and he is stitching you up and it _hurts_ , but not as much. This pain, and the throbbing pain that follows, and the sharp bursts of pain whenever you inhale. They are tolerable. Manageable.  
  
You taste copper in your mouth. You turn your head to the side and spit. What falls on the floor with an almost comedic splat is a familiar shade of red. You make a face.  
  
"Christ," you wheeze.  
  
This, unfortunately, gets his attention. He laughs, something light and breathy and patronizing. You are mostly sure that you hate his laugh the most. It is tied closely only with the rest of his fucking existence. "Oh my," he says, "What've you done now?"  
  
"Piss off," you choke out. It hurts to talk, but the thought of letting him make all the noise gives you a headache.  
  
This encourages another snicker from him, and you hate, hate, _hate_ him so much, but then he takes you by the jaw and forces your mouth open (despite your weak efforts to keep him at bay) and _shoves_ a goddamn gloved finger into your mouth and starts fucking poking around in there. You are overwhelmed with the scent, the feel, the unnatural _taste_ of latex and you want to vomit and die and scream and cry and you want to rip his jaw off and tear out his throat and you want to see him die.  
  
You do none of this. Mostly all you do is make small choking noises.  
  
"Jesus," he laughs, right into your fucking face. You bite down on him as hard as you can but he doesn't even seem to register it. "You nearly sliced your own tongue in half. You're going to have to be more careful than that."  
  
He uses his free hand to pull down hard on your hair to yank your mouth open without your say so. He removes his finger and peels off his glove.  
  
"As fruitless an effort as it was, trying to bite my finger off, let it be known I did appreciate the gesture." He laughs again, at nothing specific. You figure it's just him being so goddamn amused with himself.  
  
You take in a breath to spit something back at him, but it's sharp and gets caught in your throat, and whatever vitriolic retort you had planned dissolves into a chorus of wheezing coughs and gasps.  
  
Lalna makes a sympathetic noise, and returns to your side. He shushes you and carefully runs a hand through your hair (the ungloved one; he is careful not to tug and lightly strokes your forehead and it feels _really good_ and you hate him so much you want to die of it).  
  
"Don't fucking touch me," you spit with as much venom as you can manage, but you're not even convinced.  
  
And he fucking _smiles_ down at you and pulls his hand away. You can see terrible thoughts forming beneath his eyes and though you hate that too, it scares you more than anything.  
  
"Fine," he says.  
  
And then he doesn't. He doesn't touch you at all for what must have been weeks. Months, even.  
  
It's not terrible at first. At first you almost think you've won, only made better because you're sure he thinks he's won. Ha! You could go your entire life without ever having to exist in the same space as him and never regret it. He thinks you need the human contact, but he's wrong. You've gone most of your life without it, anyway.  
  
It's when he stops speaking to you that you start to reconsider. You start to miss the inane, idle one-sided conversation. Xephos visited today, Rythian. I had _the_ most incredible lunch today, Rythian. You'll never guess what the dwarf did today, Rythian. Hey, Rythian, what's a five letter Latin word for forgetfulness?  
  
You start to long for the moments when he even hovers near you, glances at you, scratches something down, and then leaves. You hate it when he leaves. When he leaves you are _so_ scared that he'll never come back. When he leaves is when you have moments where you forget. You forget what life was like before this, you forget who you are, and worst of all, sometimes you forget her. You hate when you forget her the most, because you know you have. You know you've forgotten something important, something just out of your grasp, and you _know_ it's there but you can't you-- you _can't_ , you--  
  
When you do remember, you repeat it like a mantra. Your name is Rythian, you are from Blackrock Stronghold, _not_ here you are being held captive here. You have an apprentice named Zoey and she feels like home. Your... your name is Rythian and you're? You're from somewhere else and you can't really remember where, but you haven't always been here. You built it with someone very close to you. Her name is Zoey and she is why you can't be here forever. You're sure you have a name and if someone would just _tell_ you it, you're sure you'd remember. You can't remember anywhere outside of here, but you're sure there must've been. There's someone very important who you _cannot_ forget, and their name-- _her_ name is Zoey.  
  
You don't have a name. You might've at one point, but not anymore. You have always lived in the dark here, have always been cold and in pain, don't even really feel the restraints anymore. There is a word; one whose sound ends by making your mouth peel into a small, thin smile and it fills you with inexplicable sadness. You try not to think about it.  
  
There is Lalna. You hate Lalna, have always hated Lalna, will hate Lalna forevermore. You can't remember exactly why, and sometimes it feels like you shouldn't. He hurts you, over and over, takes things from you, replaces them with things that don't belong. But he always says he's sorry afterwards, and wipes your tears away and kisses you very gently and very carefully. You hate it when he kisses you because it's never enough. You hate him for making you feel good more than anything. You don't remember why, but it's all you have.  
  
"A girl visited me today," he begins one day, playing with your hair. "A very sad girl. She had lost something, someone, a friend. She wanted to know if I had seen them. I, of course, said I hadn't. Perhaps they had run away from her? They had always been ungrateful towards her, I reminded her. I gave her something warm to drink and sent her on her way. I promised I would keep an eye out for her friend. I wonder if she'll ever find them. What do you think, hm?"  
  
You don't realize you've been crying until Lalna shushes you and brushes your tears away as they fall.  
  
"I hate you," you sob.  
  
He laughs.


End file.
